Frankenstein
by Silverwing013
Summary: This ghost was given rest years ago. How and why is her nephew seeing her miles away from her old haunt? The Winchesters take the case back up. Not like they wanted to deal with the crap for hunters living in Amity Park ever again, but chances are those weirdos caused it with all their ghost research. However, ghosts the Fentons found are just...freaking ludicrous. What the hell?
1. Attention

Silverwing013:  
Several may recognize where this comes from originally. A friend compiled a list of words and the goal was to use them in each short piece. A couple were used on the original.  
Notes: Danny's story began in 2004, Winchesters in 2005. So the ages of characters will hold to that time frame. I also am of the mindset that season 5 should have been the last season for Supernatural. The reason for that won't be visible right now, especially since I'm dealing early on with the Winchesters, but important for later on in this story.

* * *

**Frankenstein  
**Danny: "Like a monster cut apart and put back together."  
Dean: "Like the song by the Edgar Winter Group."  
Sam: "It's a book by Mary Shelly dude."  
Jazz: "Frankenstein isn't the monster, he's the young scientist."  
Dean: "Nerds."

**Attention**

Scribbling fiercely and desperately playing catch up from a busy weekend of ghost fighting and thoughts of fun, Danny's focus remained firmly on his homework. Sort of. He was vaguely aware of Sam and Tucker starting up an argument behind him, their homework done. And although he was going quickly, he wasn't paying the closest of attention to the detail of his work. He was writing, give him some credit.

'It was during this time that the trade of…'

"Salt just seems silly Sam."

'…salt went up for the settlers…'

"And Dean are characters who fight ghosts, demons, and other paranormal things in the book series."

'…due to the increase of ghost activity…'

"Ask Danny's parents about iron and pure things."

'…noticed by hunters who laid down an iron pentagon…"

"Danny."

Danny jolted a bit, glancing up at Sam and Tucker staring at him. "Just a second," he said and absentmindedly finished his sentence. "Protecting everyone inside miles of affected area. Okay, what was it?"

Tucker leaned over his work. "What did you just write down for the trade history of Wyoming?"

He looked back down, rereading it. "Whoops. Totally wasn't paying attention to that one. What were you two arguing about anyway? I caught pieces of it."

"Sam's book," Tucker answered. "It goes on about how pure things like salt and iron are used by the hunters in there to fight ghosts."

"The two brothers, Dean and Sam were raised to fight them that way along with other supernatural creatures," Sam explained further. "I checked online and it seems to be a topic discussed several times, so I wondered if there was any truth to it."

* * *

Next word, borrow.


	2. Borrow

**Frankenstein**

**Borrow**

"Yeah," he responded. "It's the old and traditional method. Which is why my parents are considered nuts with not just most normal people but most hunters in general with their scientific methods of using ecto…"

Danny trailed off and blinked.

"Wait. Are you talking about Sam and Dean? They are uh…John's kids. Yeah. Pretty sure his first name was John."

"You've read—"

"Not a pleasant guy," Danny drifted on to himself towards the wall. "Yelling at my parents about some demony thing in Amity Park."

His two friends gapped at him. He looked back from talking at the wall to catch the look, scowling. Danny quickly defended himself on his knowledge. "I _only_ remember 'cause Jazz's first crush was on crushable Sam. Ah boy," he sighed. "Was that a fun few weeks when I noticed _that_ one. She went dumb silent."

He snickered at the memory. Tucker's face lit up a bit. "I remember that. We escaped a bad babysitting time with Jazz by mentioning his name."

"They're _real_?" Sam sputtered out.

Danny's face froze. "Uhhh…no? Hey, can I borrow that book?" Swiping it from her, he scampered off down the hallway with the distraction. By the time he was knocking on his sister's door, Sam and Tucker had finally exited his room. "Hey Jazz! I got something for you!"

"Danny! You get back here with that!"

With a gleeful grin, he went through Jazz's door in his completely nontraditional method.

* * *

Next word, disproved.


	3. Disproved

**Frankenstein**

**Disproved**

"Danny! If they're real, then what about all the salt and iron?"

"You realize I'm throwing a food condiment at you to properly test that theory," Tucker stated through the door. He sounded more amused by it all though. Then the pounding on the door began and Jazz's hand clamped down on his shoulders.

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing," answered Danny brightly. He shoved Sam's book into Jazz's hands, making his escape from his sister's hold.

"Danny, Sam's right out there, yelling at you about the traditional ghost fighting methods mom and dad disproved years ago! Tucker just threatened to throw salt at you! What did you tell them?"

"Nothing, I swear! It was all in the book I tell you, you'll love it, I swear it. You have crush on one of the main guys."

"Huh? Crush on…?" Jazz looked down to glance at the book he shoved onto her, her eyes skimming the back blurb. "Dean and Sam? Wait. Dean was Sam's older… You mean this is Sam the—"

"Crushable? Yep."

His older sister's face went beet red and all words left her. That was when he ditched the fun mess he made, laughing at the look on Jazz's face. His slip up on knowing traditional methods should be covered by the time he returned.

* * *

Next word, habit.


	4. Habit

**Frankenstein  
**Dean: "It's German thing, right?"  
Sam: "Yeah, it means Stones of the Franks."  
Danny: "I always thought it was two names, Frank and Stein."  
Dean: "Yes! Exactly! I like this kid."  
Jazz: "I don't think Stein is a name Danny."

**Habit**

He dug through the glove compartment and ignored his little brother's sounds of protest. It wasn't as though this old highway had any traffic on it. Dean grabbed the flip phone he felt vibrating with sound, flipped it open to answer, and swerved back to the correct side of the road. Sam huffed and shut the glove compartment for him.

"Yeah," Dean answered the first question from the caller. "Right. Little guy? That's awesome. No, that's not normal. We can drive down—wait, how many miles away? Okay, that's definitely not normal. Ghosts don't skip town like that, especially after giving them rest. Is there anything of hers to tie her there? No. Well, crap. My brother and I can drive to the town your sister showed up in. Where is it? Shit. What? Oh, no, it just has a married couple who are crap for hunters and we've had to deal with them once before. Never wanted to go back and deal with them. But they're a pair of weirdos about ghosts, so it could be them with their research stuff. Maybe something of hers got up to them. Probably. We'll check it out."

He snapped the phone shut and threw it beside him.

"Hey!"

"Whoops. Habit. Forgot you were there Sammy."

His little brother gave him a bitch face and Dean smirked. That's what his brother got after ditching him and dad for all those years at Stanford. And any of his other short escapades. Besides, even if it had been over a year, it was still awesome to hear the passenger side squawking at him. Dean snickered. Squawking. Sam would be so proud if he was inside of Dean's head. That was a great word.

It totally overruled whatever chick flick moment he had about that at least his brother still here and with him.

* * *

Next word, spewed.


	5. Spewed

**Frankenstein**

**Spewed**

"So, what's the case?" Sam took a bite of his convenient store salad. Dean rolled his eyes at it. There was hot food served here and his brother went for the rabbit food. He grinned happily and took a huge bite out of his own food choice, brat with the works on it. His brother wrinkled his nose.

Dean of course, took the unspoken insult to heart and put most of the chewed food to one side of his mouth to talk. Little bits spewed across the table. Sam skittered back.

"Do'o 'membur—"

"Dude!"

"—Mi'chell Ryaan from Tu'sa?" Dean swallowed. "It was back in 1999 I think."

"Uh, guy owned the motel we stayed at in Tulsa, right? Yeah, I remember him, his daughter was in my grade," Sam commented. Of course Sam remembered her, Dean thought. Both of them were bookworms. "Mitchell's sister was still hanging around after dying in a fire. We gave her rest. Didn't we?"

"Nope." Dean popped his 'p' loudly. "And, she didn't even show back up in Tulsa where any other of her stuff could be. He's damn sure we took care of anything of hers, with so little surviving the fire she died in back in 1978. She showed up in Amity Park."

Sam blanched. "Where those crazy ghost fanatics live?"

"Yep." He popped the 'p' again. "Got it in one."

* * *

Next words, victims, memento, receipt.


	6. Victims, Memento, Receipt

**Frankenstein****  
**

**Victims **

The trio of men bustled in, making their way directly to the polished countertop. The oldest male of the group, stepped forward and the teenage girl quickly marked the page in her book to greet them all with a smile.

"Welcome to Ryan Motel. I'm Madilynn, can I help you?"

"I need a room for the next several weeks with two beds charged to this card," the oldest said gruffly. He tugged out a credit card from his worn wallet and tossed it onto the counter for her. It landed onto an amber paperweight. Blue pen marked fingernails picked up the card.

"Okay then Mr. Lentz, let me run this through for you." She swiped the card, punching information into the computer as she rambled over the services of the motel that they could use during their stay. Tucking loose dark brown strands back, she handed the card back to him with another smile. The youngest peered around him to look curiously at her and then her reading choice sitting to the side. She directed her attention back to the oldest male, clearly the father of the other two.

"If you need anything, feel free to come to the front desk for it. I'll be here most days before the school year starts next week. You are also free to ask my mom and dad, that'd be either Paula or Mitchell. If you run across my little brother Petey, don't take his help seriously. Heads up. He behaves as though this is his own personal pranking playground."

The older son perked up at that, finally showing interest in the proceedings with mischief in his eyes, and his mouth twitching. "And a never ending supply of fresh victims."

"Right," Madilynn agreed.

**Memento**

Curious at what was taking so long to get back from getting water; Dean zipped his bag back up and left their room. No Sam at the vending machine. Dean fidgeted, worried, and glanced around for clues to what happened to his little brother. Then he spotted the familiar shag of hair just inside the office building chatting to the bookworm girl who had been manning the desk when they arrived earlier.

He sighed in relief. Dean was not all too sure he would have enjoyed telling his father he lost track of Sam after barely an hour after he left for his case.

"Hey nerds," he greeted cheerfully as he entered.

Sam turned with a bit of a sour look, then winced a bit before snapping back, "You didn't have to go looking for me Dean, I'm sixteen."

"Is your little brother this snarky or am I just lucky?" He reached past Sam and picked up the amber paperweight, winking at Madilynn as he tossed and caught it. Sam rolled his eyes at him and shoved him with his shoulder. Gleefully, Dean took the water bottle his little brother handed over; glad Sam had gotten the second one just for him.

"Very funny Dean."

"I'm hilarious," he declared. And then grinned as it caused Sam to roll his eyes again.

"Only when I hassle him over his late night practicing." After a beat, Madilynn explained. "He devotes practically all of his free time to guitar playing. Not exactly a quiet hobby when all I want to do is sleep. Can you put that back onto the desk? It means a lot to my dad."

About ready to toss up the paperweight again, Dean refrained and put it back onto the counter. "Oh yeah?"

"It's a memento to my aunt. I'm named after her in a fashion," Madilynn explained. "She passed away in a house fire when she and dad were teenagers."

"A house fire?" Sam's head turned to look at her properly, and he glanced at Dean for a second. "That's terrible."

**Receipt **

"Want anything," Dean asked at the gas pit stop. "I'm grabbing snacks."

"No."

Annoyed, Dean flicked his younger brother on his nose and glee filled him as Sam reacted. "Come on," he wheedled. "Get yourself some grub. You've been a Miss Debbie Downer the whole ride up. The least you can do is stuff your face with actual Debbies."

"Ugh, Dean. I'm fine," Sam insisted. "We're almost to Amity Park anyway."

Dean watched as Sam peered back out the passenger window, away from him. "Hey, Sam. It doesn't have anything to do with the special children, with the house fire she had, does it?"

If it was possible for anyone to pout and scowl at the same time, it was Sam.

"No." Sam shifted uncomfortable in his seat. "Okay, yeah it does. I know it's not the same, but she was involved in a house fire, even if years before mom. And it's this year, with everything else going on with me and the other…special children, is when her ghost comes back?"

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, it's weird, but it doesn't fit the pattern, like you said. Hell, she wasn't even born in 1983 like you or Ava." Dean grimaced at the face Sam made at the mention of the recently missing girl. He spurred on, "She died five years before you were born. Heck, she was dead before I was born. It's probably just something of hers that got into the hands of those crap for hunters there in Amity. Okay Sam?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right Dean. It is just been weird lately. Nothing really seems like a case anymore and more like something dealing with these freaky powers."

"But you're not a freak," Dean clarified. "You think they got some pie? Salad maybe?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead man, get me some salad."

Dean grinned. "Rabbit food it is! Excellent! See, totally normal little dorkus brother, aren't you Sammy?" He ruffled up his little brother's hair and jogged away from the Impala before Sam could retaliate.

When he came back, Dean snickered as he shoved a salad and a Little Debbie into Sam's hands with the receipt. Sam sighed, regretting before he even asked him. "What is it?"

"Check out the cashier's name!"

"Debbie," Sam read out loud before groaning as his older brother cackled.

* * *

Next word, masculinity


	7. Masculinity

**Frankenstein  
**Dean: "Don't tell him that, Stein is a name."  
Sam: "Lichtenstein doesn't count Dean."  
Jazz: "Does he actually think that?"  
Danny: "It should count. Anyone know a Licht?"

**Masculinity**

"…aren't even real names, they're…bad comic book names."

Balancing the two trays, Danny glanced at the obvious out of towner. Slouched in the booth, the guy inhaled his food. The other sat straight, making his towering height more noticeable. He turned the newspaper around for the complainer. Huh. That taller guy looked familiar.

Taking another massive bite of his burger, the one peered at it. Danny caught a glimpse. They were talking about the furniture store fiasco.

The Box Ghost, Danny could agree with the slouched complainer. But what was wrong with Danny Phantom? The bad comic book name was the original one Amity Park came up with. Inviso-Bill.

He caught sight of Paulina and Star by the fountain drinks. Okay, Danny conceded. Being called by something else wasn't so bad. Goofily, he smiled and waved at Paulina. With a roll of her eyes and a signal of her hand, she and Star walked away. His face looked at Danny from her back.

"Danny! Here, let me get one for you." Jazz hurried over with her offer. "Huh. I wonder who gets the money for selling those Danny Phantom shirts."

"No idea, but it isn't me. Hey." He slid his tray onto the table, and then slid himself into the booth. Tucker dug right in for his food. On the opposite side, Sam rolled her eyes at Tucker's meat enthusiasm. "Does my name sound like a bad comic book name?"

"Now that you mention it…"

"What's wrong with the name of Danny?"

"Not really. Comic book superheroes like their masculinity," Sam groused. "Superman. Batman. Spiderman."

"What about Wonder Woman or Supergirl?" Tucker attempted to derail her.

"And Superboy. Plastic Man and Plastic Lad. Hellboy. Power Man. Wonder Man."

"Noooo! Make. Her. Stoooooop. I'm drowning!"

"Darkman. Hawkman."

"She-Hulk," Jazz tossed out the female example.

"Based off of Hulk. They couldn't even give her a name of her own. Let me see… Iron Man. Beast Boy."

"Boy?" Tucker lifted his head up from the table. He leaned over with a smirk. "Are you sure this has nothing to do with how Paulina calls him the Ghost Boy?"

"NO." The red face and response was instant.

Confused, Danny looked between his two friends. "Uh, what does Paulina have to do with—"

"She has nothing to do with it." Sam emphasized, "_Nothing_."

Jazz raised her hands and played peacekeeper. "Let's just eat our meals, okay?"

This only prompted Sam and Tucker to shift their argument to food choices. An old argument which never died and Danny just let them go at it. His sister didn't agree, but was becoming amazed at how often and long they could go on about food.

She shot him a pleading look across the table.

Danny shrugged and reached for his drink.

Next thing everyone knew, they were covered in Danny backwash.

It was Tucker who broke into laughter, rolling and holding his stomach. "Good thing we never called you Salt Boy!"

"Ugh! Tucker! That was disgusting!"

* * *

Next word, persistence.


	8. Persistence

**Frankenstein **

**Persistence**

"Meat is one of the five important food groups!"

"I got it, I got it! We all got that point," Danny yelled as he dodged the knives. They all penetrated the wall behind him, thankfully no people were behind him at this point of the fight. "You really need to quit throwing it at people all the time Lunch Lady!"

She turned suddenly sweet and pulled out a plate from behind her back. "Cookie dear?"

"Sorry, not a cook lady," Danny jested as he leapt up and hovered. Everyone was on the opposite side, he thanked gratefully in his head. He fired a ghost ray as the Lunch Lady roared in preparation of her fresh wave of meat attacking him. "Granted, I have my respects for them if everyone complains like a fussy toddler with a plate of broccoli, never being happy with what was made for them."

"These meals are not balanced without all food groups represented!"

The Lunch Lady managed to get her fresh wave of meat this time. Danny weaved about, firing as he did so. "And the opinions of vegetarians would disagree! Honestly, the persistence of on all sides about this is commendable, but it doesn't change anything because they'll cater to as many customers as possible. But, I think my persistence beats at least one of you!"

He got one last good blast in and sucked her into the Fenton Thermos.

"You go Ghost Boy," cried out Paulina. There was a shuffle going on in the group gathered away from where the fight had taken place and Danny paused in curiosity. He had gotten used to the fact most ghost fights illicit cheers from his peers when at school or the Nasty Burger. At least recently it had. The only real scramble was for them to get away from the fight, but still be able to watch it. Then Danny understood as he saw it was the two out of towners he had noticed previously. "I told you that my Ghost Boy had it covered. There is no reas—how dare you shove me!"

With a heave, the pair thrust forward. One threw a bag, causing white to fly and rain down onto Danny. He blinked. Startled and confused, he turned to watch as the taller one finished running about him with another bag. Did he just make a circle around him? Danny cautiously rose up a hand to smell the white stuff.

"Salt? You just made a circle of salt around me? Well, that's a new one."

"Salt Boy," Tucker shouted out with a laugh. Classmates weren't the only one to glare at his friend for that one. Sam shoved him and called him an 'idiot'.

"A circle?" Danny flew around and studied the ground curiously. "What? Do you think it'll trap…me?"

He realized it then. The old and more traditional method his parents disproved, the same thing Tucker had tested not too long ago on his poor drink. Danny jerked his head back up and then smacked his forehead.

"I knew you looked familiar!"

"You know us? Who are you—"

"Gotta go!"

With that Danny went invisible and flew out of the Nasty Burger to switch in the nearby alleyway. This just figured. Right about when he thought he had it all figured out. No new ghost powers, same old ghosts, and same old hunters, managing to actually have time for school and hanging out again…something cropped up to destroy that.

The occult crazed and demonic religious nuts of some backwards thinking hunters. Who apparently made money selling stories on their so called hunts. Danny knew ghosts weren't injured how they perpetrated in those books Sam had found.

"Great," he complained out loud and groaned.

* * *

Next word, comic.


	9. Comic

**Frankenstein**

**Comic**

"For something from a place called The Nasty Burger, the food is pretty good."

Dean took a big bite of his burger. Sam did the same thing to his own tofu one and flipped through the local paper. "Seems as though this town has become acclimated to these ghosts here. The fight between Phantom and…Boxy is mentioned as cause for some minor damage at a local furniture store. People are donating for the damage. And some unnamed collector bought the most damaged item for triple the amount. Apparently it's all not even front page news worthy, the third page."

"What's with those names even? Those aren't even real names, they're…bad comic book names."

"No idea. We should go into their archives, since reports on these things are frequent enough to make it to the paper. See if there is any mention of Mitchell's sister or one that sounds like her." Sam took a drink of his water, looking at the paper and the other people in the fast food restaurant. One talkative Hispanic girl wore a fan club t-shirt for Phantom as she chatted to a friend by the fountain drink machine. "I mean, it's crazy, but these people are used to these things in their town and they take it as fact rather than a matter of belief like most other people outside of our line of work. Petey hasn't returned your call yet?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope. But Mitchell said his son is recording tracks with his band over parts of the kid's winter break. Could be late by the time the kid sees I even called him."

"Right. These things may not be what we call ghosts, but they are definitely something up our alley."

"Up our ghost alley and then take a turn face first into weirdville's creature wall. Dead end crazy."

"Let's research and ask about, see if we can figure out what we are dealing with. Put off asking the couple here about their research for tomorrow. They may not have been as crazy as we first thought," Sam forced out. His face read doubtable.

Dean snorted.

"Yeah right. The whole town went crazy with them."

A smile twitched across Sam's mouth. "Maybe you shouldn't be eating the burgers here then Dean. Could be in the food."

"How dare you." Dean stared wide eyed at Sam. Why would anyone even joke about such a thing? Especially his own brother. "My food would never betray me."

* * *

Next word, stunned.


	10. Stunned

**Frankenstein**  
Dean: "I know a Stein that can lick your rear."  
Danny: "That's gross. Oh wait, you mean like beat me."  
Sam: "Dean, we don't know a Stein."  
Jazz: "Why does it seem I should be concerned if he's grinning?"

**Stunned**

When it came to ghosts, they acted on instinct. Never mind the odd looks of others, because Dean and Sam knew what they were doing. This was family business. Saving people.

"I told you that my Ghost Boy had it covered. There is no reas—how dare you shove me!"

As Sam ran around for the circle, Dean tore the bag he found from the kitchen open and tossed the contents over the comic ghost Phantom. The empty salt bag dropped uselessly. This ghost was far too…solid.

Sam finished his circle. The ghost lifted up a hand covered with salt as though it weren't salt, sniffing carefully. "Salt? You just made a circle of salt around me? Well," the ghost said conversationally if a bit baffled. "That's a new one."

"Salt Boy," shouted out one of the teenagers with a laugh. This wasn't a laughing matter. Dean nudged Sam, giving a wide eyed look to convey his confusion. Wide eyed, Sam shrugged back and then they both spun their heads back to watch the dangerous ghost.

"A circle?" It flew around and to look curiously. "What? Do you think it'll trap…me?"

Dean stepped back, reaching for one of his hidden knives as the ghost's head shot up at them. And then it…smacked its head?

"I knew you looked familiar!"

"You know us?" Sam inched forward. "Who are you—"

"Gotta go!"

And the ghost, ignoring all proven ghost lore; flew out of the salt circle, still with salt on it, ditching them as it went through the restaurant wall, moving so quickly that Dean's throw of an iron knife only plunged into the wall and not the ghost in question.

The group of angry, hero worshiping teenagers was just as quick to vent onto the pair of stunned brothers. Pissing people off occasionally was part of the job, all the reason to stay on the move. However, Dean could still remain surprised at the job. Seriously, what town backed the supernatural baddie?

* * *

Next word, buzz.


	11. Buzz

**Frankenstein**

**Buzz**

"Uh yeah," the blonde teen spoke as though the situation was reversed. Like Dean and Sam were the two idiots about ghosts. They drew back at the teenager's agitated scowl. "Danny Phantom is the man. He takes care of any of the ghosts that decide to bother Amity. Any and all of them. He's a hero. Phantom has rescued me and the town more than enough. He shouldn't have to deal with people reporting _him_ as the bad guy around here. So why don't you two take your anti-ghost emotional pieces of crap and buzz off!"

With that departing shout, the teenager spun away from them and marched away. The tiny dog he had been walking, yapped once at them, and then dashed after its master.

"Right," Dean drawled. "So we are to believe that Slimer is now hungry for justice on his own kind and is dressing up like Batman."

"No cape and cowl," Sam commented. Dean's head swung around to shoot him a glare at the correction. "But apparently, yeah."

* * *

Next words, lingers, oil, vinegar.


	12. Lingers, Oil, Vinegar

**Frankenstein**

**Lingers**

Dean scribbled down the date, showing it to Sam. "Okay, we can stop at the local library and give it a look for your aunt Petey. There are also a pair of…ghost hunters here we are asking, so I'm sure we can get this figured out and give her rest for your family."

The boy on the other end of the phone snorted and snickered. "You mean the crap for hunters?"

"Er," Dean paused. Normally he would give some bull and reassure the family that all was well and handled. "Yeah. Who told you that?"

"You did. And just about every teen our drummer Robs asked about rumors of ghosts around there. The high school has an evacuation plan set up for them, which is the best one. Totally failed when Jake and I tried to get people freaked out and have one at McLain, our school. It was fun trying though."

Dean cracked up laughing at the boy's lighthearted tone of voice. Then he caught Sam's glare and hastily angled so he did not have to see his little brother's disapproval.

"I'm coming up for you again," Petey informed Dean. "Robs and I are gunna head out for Amity Park once we finish up the last of recording tomorrow."

"Dean." He turned at Sam's annoyance and covered the phone at the face Sam had made.

"Bitch."

"Get off the phone jerk. We're still on a case."

Dean rolled his eyes, then ignored his unfun brother to uncover the phone. "We're on a case, you can't be making me smell like the start of a grill out again," Dean informed Petey.

Sam's head spun from the printed out newspapers, eyes wide. "He's coming up here? Petey is coming up here? No, no pranks!"

"It's Petey," Dean stressed and raised an eyebrow. "You tell that kid no pranks at all and imagine what he'll do with that."

Hearing them from the other end of the line, Petey chuckled in demented glee. "Tell me, tell me! Do it! Tell me!"

Sam winced

"Okay, fine," Sam relented. "Nothing that lasts or lingers. God I'm going to regret this. Why is he even coming to Amity Park anyway?"

Dean cackled. "Live a little Sammy. You need to lighten up. See you in a couple of days Petey. We should know more about why you saw your Aunt up here. Bring up the goods. Little Sammy is sure to be watching my purchases like the control freak he is now that he knows you're coming."

Sam's head thumped onto the desk. "Dean. Can you not take a case seriously? Salt didn't even work on that Phantom ghost we ran into earlier."

"Ah, we'll figure it out," Dean responded flippantly as he tossed his cell phone onto the bed. "Now, the real question is, want to team up against Petey this time around and get him good?"

Dean gave himself the credit and invisible pat on his back when Sam actually thought about it.

**Oil**

Scratching away at the corner, Dean drew the knife back and blew wood shavings off. Scrutinizing for a second, he smiled in minute pride and tucked the pocket knife away. Checking himself, he made sure of his concealed weapons before grabbing the motel key. It was his duty and job to make sure his little brother was safe. Even if the little bitch had started bucking at his and Dad's safety measures.

Dean grinned, whistling. That was Sammy for you. It was good to see his little brother getting a slice of normal in their bump in the night world. He chuckled, "A normal glorified nerd." Complete puppy dog eagerness in wanting the school year to begin.

Dean left the safety of the room sideways, key already poised up as he fell smack on his hipbone. Swearing, he went to push himself up to see what caused him to sleep when reaching the motel door. His hand flew across the yellowed tiles and he finally smelled the cooking oil he was covered in.

**Vinegar**

"Hey Dean," Sam greeted. His mop of hair didn't look up from the book he was currently reading, absently eating a spoonful of oatmeal. "What took so long?"

"Oh, yuck it up bitch," Dean snapped back.

Irritated at the new nickname from his older brother the past couple of months, Sam scowled up at Dean. A sausage link was speared with extra vigor, Dean grinding away at the unfortunate piece of meat. Marking his page, Sam set aside his book to finish his breakfast. Dean continued to glare across the table. Searching for a topic of safety, Sam carefully took the conversation to where he lately avoided.

"Is the room good? Or…did you need help?"

The offer landed flat as Dean snorted. Rolling his eyes at his brother's sour morning attitude, Sam took a drink of water. One spit spray, coughing, scraping of his tongue with napkins, and another table's dirty looks later—Sam spotted Dean's smirk. "Vinegar," he asked in disbelief. "That's a weak prank."

Leaning back in his chair, Dean crossed his arms. "I got all day free while you're stuck at school. Bring it bitch."

Sam wrinkled his nose and carefully toed his backpack.

"Jerk."

And then he used his other toe to push at his brother's chair before dashing away. Dean's snarls followed the clatter of wood behind him.

* * *

Next word, red.


	13. Red

**Frankenstein  
**Danny: "I can beat any half a monster thing."  
Jazz: "Frankenstein isn't the monster."  
Dean: "Quiet smarty pants. He and I are going to have a drinking contest."  
Danny: "Uh...exactly what kind of drink is it, because...yeah..."  
Sam: "Dean! Stein is a beer, isn't it?"**  
**

**Red**

Dean gazed up at the sign. Large, obnoxious, and extremely noticeable; like a neon colored highlighter that glowed not just in the dark but in the freaking light.

"I'm not even going to go there, it's too easy."

"I can't believe it's still there," Sam said. He got out of the Impala, shutting the passenger door. "Is it worse than last time?"

"Nah. I think it's just that ridiculous. Give me a fancy word for it Sammy. It deserves something really fitting before I use it as target practice."

"Dean," Sam snapped out. He turned his head to shoot his elder brother a glare. "It's still someone's house."

"Someone's blank house sign. Word Sammy."

Sam sighed, but looked back up at the sign with a slight frown as they walked up to the house. "Horrendous? Atrocious? Flabbergasting? Uh…overpowering? Engulfing?"

Dean snapped his fingers. "Engulfatrocious. It's engulfatrocious. I've named it. No one will mind if I shot it."

"They will."

"You won't. You called it flabbergasting. Wasn't flabber the name of some kiddie movie?"

Sam pinched his nose, but wound up laughing a little. Dean frowned, not seeing what was funny in what he said, but grinned proudly and knocked on the front door.

"I got it mom," a female voice called out from inside. After a couple of seconds, the door opened. The high school girl tilted her head up to look at them, tucking long strands of orange behind an ear. "Hello. Welcome to the Fenton residence."

"We're looking for Jack or Madeline Fenton."

"Who should I say is here?"

"Aww crud!"

The girl whipped her head around. "Danny!" Dean and Sam glanced to see the slightly younger teenage boy frozen in midstep. He flinched at the tone, but scowled at them. Then slowly, a mischievous smile grew on his face. "Danny?"

Danny began humming a familiar tune, meant to tease children when they had crushes. Confused by the choice, Dean and Sam shared a look.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Danny scampered over and placed his hands on both of her cheeks, turning her head back to the doorway and up high. High and with a push that had her staggering toward them. Sam quickly reached out to steady the girl.

"Are Jack an—" Sam began, but the younger boy interrupted him gleefully.

"Jazz and Sam, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage! That's not all! That's not all! Here comes the baby working in study hall!"

Face red and eyes widening up at Sam, Jazz stood in a dumb shock as she stared up at Sam. Dean started snickering as his brother's face changed colors in realization. Danny laughed, sprinting away, making smooching noises. "Your crushable Sam's back Jazzypants!"

Jazz finally yanked away from Sam and twirled around. "Danny, you get back here!"

The brothers went ignored at the door until the kids' mother came up from the basement and noticed them standing there.

* * *

Next word, Latin.


	14. Latin

**Frankenstein**

**Latin**

Dean and Sam eyed the voice recorder and the suddenly swarmed kitchen table of professional research notes warily. The matriarch's children snickered at them.

"No other hunters of your repertoire and most in our own community have ever been overly fond of my husband and I's theories and inventions pertaining to ghosts. I have been of the mind the brand of ghosts we study are far different than many of our small number have even seen. Unfortunately, comparison of notes becomes impossible because of this fact. I plan to take advantage and figure out why ghosts of Amity Park and the traditional kind you hunters are familiar with seem so vastly different."

Both brothers frowned.

"But we're sure other…hunters have been here," pushed Sam lightly.

The woman smiled brightly. "No takers. Except for a, what was his name? It was James, Jake, Jim, no, John. That's right. There was a John who insulted us like _we were_ hunters, blowing up about a major demon deal. I thought him a bit overly religious to call ghosts that, especially with none near. Paranoid. But he spoke some lovely Latin."

Dean coughed a little. Sam paled. Both men glanced at each other and then back to her.

"Right. Some lovely Latin," Dean strained out. His lips twitched. "Hear that Sammy? John spoke some lovely Latin."

Sam glared at his older brother. "Dude, shut up."

Dean smirked.

* * *

Next word, loop.


	15. Loop

**Frankenstein**

**Loop**

"Now these ectoplasmic entities—"

"Ectoplasm," Sam interrupted in his shock. "Are you sure about that? We've run across one like that and ghosts that leave behind that black sticky—"

"Black?" This time it was her interrupting with confusion. "No, no. Not sticky either. Typically," she amended.

"Lady. It only comes in the one color. Black, sticky, tar-like. A leftover of the worst of humans gone worst of ghosts."

Her face cleared. "Oh! You're talking of leftovers! Yes, ectoplasm does tend to grow darker over time away from the source. But fresh ectoplasm that is the life-source, so to say, of ghosts is like a light, glowing light beams of colors. Mostly green light beams."

"Or blue," her youngest piped in as he grinned at Sam and Dean's faces.

"Don't forget fruit loop pink Danny," chimed the oldest. She smiled secretively at her brother. He beamed back, blue eyes sparkling. The boyish face reminded Dean strongly of Sam's puppy dog eyes, but more excitable and mischievous.

"Nice one Jazz!"

The siblings shared a high-five and burst into laughter.

* * *

Next word, spot.


	16. Spot

**Frankenstein**  
Dean: Oh come on! Even you're giving me the dirty look?  
Danny: I'm still in high school.  
Jazz: And a responsible kid. Danny would never. He has obligations.  
Dean: I was a responsible kid at high school parties!  
Sam: What, by dragging me, the responsibility, to them? Obligations?

**Spot**

"I have a question. So far we haven't run into any electromagnetic interference. I was wondering if—"

"Oh, that was disproved years ago by my husband and I. The ghosts we deal with have do not display interference with everyday devices." Madeline sipped at her water. "Well, actually. There is one that does display that, but it has been disproven for a typical ability of ghosts we have studied. You'll have to tell me about your kind of ghosts please. Other hunters are so quickly dismissive of us and refuse to speak, but for so many, there must be some truth to the traditional kind. I admit. I am very curious of the differences and why the difference between ones we deal with and ones you two deal with."

Dean snorted. "You're telling me. We've only seen a couple here, but they do not act like ghosts at all. It's a spot where even supernatural doesn't cover what's here."

"Hm," she hummed. "Like a cold spot for traditional kinds of ghosts?"

"Yes!"

Madeline perked up and leaned over the table. "So there is such a thing as cold spots?"

Both Dean and Sam shared a look, and then looked back to the older woman. "Yes."

"Amity Park takes the cake for supernatural cold spots from what I can tell from research and witnessing one such…uh, ghost fight." Sam seemed very hesitant to call them ghosts and Dean could only snort at referring to them as ghosts. This town was like supernatural's supernatural cold spot. But if there had been one of these weird town's ghosts Dean would like to see firsthand, it would have to be the dragon ghost his little brother had gone wide eyed and tried to bury at the bottom of all the articles they had dug up.

"I would love to tag along and record findings with the pair of you on a later date, outside of Amity Park to study the traditional kind. We've so long disproved them with our kind," Madeline said longingly. "Cold spots, salt, iron, actual hauntings!"

Jazz and Danny, both her children went pale and burst up from their seats. "No!"

* * *

Next word, suit.


	17. Suit

**Frankenstein**

**Suit**

"The best way to combat ghosts, that we have found, is in ectoplasm and various charges to make their attacks weaker or even useless," the mother explained. Her children listened, but in an absent manner, showing they had heard all of this before, possibly seen it if the fight at The Nasty Burger was anything to go by.

Madeline gestured to her outfit of overly bright designs. Both Dean and Sam pulled back at the sight of it.

"I have yet to place in a last resort in the that safely protects the wearer from only ghosts. The charges so far will also harm the human inside. In this case, the last resort is an outdated one, at least only here it seems if you two are anything to go by. The traditional combatant of salt is lined inside our work hazmat suit, set to release when the wearer's vitals become critical."

"Huh." Sam blinked in surprise at the use of traditional from this family. "More of a protective circling of salt or close to a traditional salt and burn of a body to keep them from becoming a ghost. None of you would be in danger of being...our kind of ghost at least..."

She nodded and gave an indulgent smile at his disbelief.

"What happens if someone is salt and burned," her son burst out. From his wide eyes, it was clear this hadn't been information he was previously aware of and Danny's concern was concerning. Sam frowned at Dean, but his brother didn't realize as he was looking at the Fenton boy.

"That's above our paygrade." Dean waved both the question and concern away. "Salting and burning the body is like death for ghosts."

"Traditional ghost," said his mother. Madeline jotted down something onto her pad of paper. "But we have disproved that kind, especially in-"

"Danny!"

His sister racing after, the youngest Fenton sprinted from the room. Their mother frowned. Dean caught Sam's look that time.

* * *

Next words, familiar, junior, echo.


	18. Familiar, Junior, Echo

Silverwing013: Last chapter is the first clue of the puzzle and part of the reason why I stated at the start I am not counting anything past season five for Supernatural. It'll become clearer later, but I know where I am taking my take on things. A couple have made stabs at who you think the ghost the Winchesters are dealing with in coming to Amity Park, but it should really become obvious to Danny Phantom viewers which one it is going to be.

* * *

**Frankenstein**

**Familiar**

Madeline Fenton cleared her throat. "I could honestly shop talk for days or weeks with you two boys, don't even get Jack going, but your purpose here is not focused on that."

"Right," Sam agreed. He pulled out his manila envelope tucked under his arm, rifling through it. Dean drummed his fingers on the kitchen table and watched the mother's interest briefly flicking away to the direction her children disappeared. "There is a family from Tulsa that we salted and burned a personal possession of a member who died two or three decades back in a house fire. Her ghost has been inactive since then, the past seven years. That is until her nephew saw her here in Amity Park."

Intrigued, Madeline slides the wrinkled photograph closer and pursed her lips together. It was a high school picture, the teenage girl dressed in a black shirt with neon bright geometric shapes of blue and green upon it. The make-up under her eyes seemed a tad too thick, but her lips were tugged up in a hesitant smile and her dark brown hair was pulled neatly back for a simple ponytail.

"A bit of an oddball for the darker look in those years," Madeline commented. "Bright colors were more of thing then. She looks familiar though. As though she went to my high school, but she seems more…recent in my mind. What was her name?"

"Amber Lynne Ryan," Dean replied. He pushed the picture back toward Madeline with his index finger. "Recent? You have seen her ghost here?"

Madeline Fenton shook her head with a frown. "No. Not a ghost, but she is ringing something in my memory."

**Junior**

Sam tugged his backpack back up onto his shoulder, slowing his pace again for his guide. The hotel's daughter had been kind enough to show him around on the first day of school. It was really odd not to be hurrying along to keep up with everyone. He hunched a little, aware of his growing height again. Madilynn pointed out the high school office door, and then directed his attention to the nearby glass case of awards and such.

"There is the aunt I'm named after," Madilynn said. "The so called ghost of McLain High School. It's mostly an autumn story to scare the incoming freshman and linger into Halloween."

Sam paused to give the aforementioned aunt a closer look. "She looks young. How old was she when she passed away?"

"A junior like us. The house fire happened on her seventeenth birthday actually, her golden birthday even."

His long hair hit his eyes as he spun back to Madilynn at that. "On her birthday? Crazy."

Madilynn huffed. "Careful now. Next thing I'll know is that you'll be believing the tales of her taking retribution on those who stand up their dates…or treat a Ryan poorly. All of which is silly."

"Millie! Scaring off a cutie with gory tales of your fairy ghostmother?"

Sam's guide hid her embarrassed face behind her book.

"Ashley," Madilynn moaned. "No. Can you not?"

"Nope! Not what?" The tiny girl chirruped, a bounce in her step, long wiry red hair puffing out a devil may care look that appeared to match her well. "So what's your name cutie? I'm Ashley Fraser, Millie's BBF since I caught her—"

"Ashley!" Madilynn's face was bright red.

"—picking her nose way back in pre-K! What? Like no one ever not digs for gold. Why, I bet cutie here found gold too!"

The voice was loud enough to garner a few sideways looks near them and Sam hunched over himself, face red as well and unsure what to do with a loud personality like hers.

"Why would I ever need tales of a fairy ghostmother when I have someone like you," Madilynn grumbled in annoyance.

"Oh, I'm magical! Let me Cinderella you up with Prince Cute I-N-G here!"

**Echo**

"Jam session!"

Dean paused from putting superglue on his brother's momentarily vacated seat to see the boy skid around the corner. The kid stampeded back to take a double look at Dean's art project, bursting into laughter as he disappeared again.

The teenager that checked them in, Madilynn, chased after the boy. "Petey! You still have a minute of nightly reading left for Mrs. Manson!"

"Close enough," came the shout back at her. A door slammed shut and soon a loud cry of chords let loose on a guitar. After the first burst, the guitar volume lowered and broke into a recognizable Black Sabbath song. The boy's voice cracked as he sang the first words in a weird high pitch, probably aiming to annoy his sister. "I am iron man!"

Dean nodded in appreciation, humming along with the guitar part. The kids' older sister shook her head as she came back to the hotel's joint dining room for all occupants. Dean quickly stashed his glue bottle away from her sight, tapping his boot along. She automatically started the apology, "I'm sorry about…you're a classic rock or guitar fan, aren't you?"

He grinned at her and started vocalizing the guitar part rather than humming.

"Wait." Dean frowned. "Is there an echo?"

"DEAN!"

He turned about and cracked up at growing giant Sam waddling about with a chair plastered to his rear.

* * *

Next word, order.


	19. Order

**Frankenstein  
**Danny: Jazz!  
Jazz: What? I can't be proud of-  
Danny: No! Not right now!  
Dean: Family thing? Cause up til now, Danny and I were battling you nerds.  
Sam: Proud of what? You two don't fight like your parents though.

**Order**

The key turning easily in his grip, Sam quickly glanced up toward Ryan Motel before he reached into his back pocket for a different sort of tape than what his older brother had in the Impala. Classic rock, the highlight hits of metal heads everywhere. One would think Dean could at least update to the grunge music of the 90's and buy at least a Nirvana album, but no. His older brother recently, and proudly, bought Blue Oyster Cult.

Sam grinned as he found the cassette. It was time to get Dean back for the chair. He'd have to thank Madilynn for her contribution later, glad it was a gift she did not care for because it may be destroyed shortly.

"Hello Mariah Carey, I'd like to introduce you to Baby."

With a jab of his index finger, the classic music stopped blasting through the speakers. Would be interesting to see Dean react to proper classical music in the Impala, Sam mused. He popped the case open, took a last second look for his brother, and pushed in the switched tape.

"You better take that back out and put the other back in," snapped out an order from behind him.

Startled at the female voice when expecting his brother's ire, Sam spun around in surprise.

And then the sixteen-year-old went wide eyed at who it was. Tapping her black sock impatiently on the ground, the girl crossed her arms over her one sleeved black dress, eyeliner smudged under one eye and to the side of the other as if she had cried earlier, but the family resemblance to her niece was what had Sam actually recognizing her instead of her school photo.

The ghost of Amber Lynne Ryan leaned forward.

"Well? You're not deaf or dumb are you babyface? I ain't getting any deader now and don't have anything to lose. But you aren't getting any younger in all this gawking at me. Don't even take the picture. You'll reach dead soon enough."

* * *

Next word, wheedled.


	20. Wheedled

**Frankenstein**

**Wheedled**

Slowly, Sam did as the ghost asked, his mind racing. The few hunting supplies nearest to him were currently on the other side of the Impala, inside the trunk.

"Faster pretty babyface," she wheedled. "Don't be a little heartbreaker and turn that volume up."

Insides turning at the odd endearments from the girl out of the 70s, Sam kept his eye on her as he turned the volume up. Was there salt packets from that pit stop 50 miles west of here they made? The ghost began dancing to the cassette tape Sam had put back in and he took her distraction to make a fumble for the dashboard, never taking his eyes off of her. His fingers touched little square packets.

"Yeah! That's right Sammy! About time you turned up some good music!"

Sam jumped in his seat, quickly tearing open one of the salt packets, hoping to get the ghost before Dean got jumped on by the ghost.

She was gone.

"Ha! That's your prank! Salt all over my baby? That's just sad Sammy, sad. And I will destroy you for making a mess of her little Sammy," Dean promised in glee and in threat as he opened the driver side door and slid in. Then he saw Sam's face and his face went straight to concern for his little brother. "Sam?"

* * *

Next word, first.


	21. First

**Frankenstein**

**First**

Sam slid his chair back from the table. "I'm sorry, but where is your bathroom?"

The Fenton matriarch waves the apology off with a hand and smile. "Just up the stairs and to the left."

He nodded, then glanced to Dean. His brother jerked his head in the direction her children disappeared, up the stairs, then nodded. Sam headed up, walking close to the edge to eliminate the sound of his weight creaking up. Dean turned his attention back to the table, eyes lighting up on the newspaper photographs and snapped glossy pictures she was laying out.

"I'm afraid none of the ghosts we've run across in Amity Park look like your Amber Lynne there. You can look through for yourself. I can make copies if needed." He glanced up to see her resting her chin on a hand, a knowing smile on her lips. "She's important, isn't she? The ghost means something to you."

Taken aback, Dean blinked. " Uh, yeah actually. Amber Lynne Ryan was the first case Sam and I ever did together."

Madeline nodded, her smile grew. "There are always a few that stand out like that."

Dean shrugged and shuffled through the newspaper clippings. "Nothing really special."

It was more a thrill. Sam and he had done the case on the sly, their dad none the wiser, a brotherhood secret between them, one of the last his little brother allowed in his childhood. After hunting together for the past year, a point to look back to before the became a team, the Winchester boys, Sam and Dean. Saving people and hunting things.

However, this case had likely jumped from traditional and gone to some freakish nontraditional and here. Right out of their already unusual expertise.

She was special now.

* * *

Next word, freak.


	22. Freak

**Frankenstein  
**Danny: That's right! We don't!  
Jazz: Ha! Our parents are crazy! Of course we don't hunt! We don't sneak and cover when -  
Sam: I totally get that! Normal, yes.  
Dean: Of course you get _that_.

**Freak**

"Danny, calm down."

"Calm down? How do you expect me to calm down? Did you not hear mom? Have you not been listening to me?"

Sam lingered in the upstairs hallway, glad the two suspicious Fenton siblings were loud enough to hear from where he stood. The room they were in sounded as though it was right beside the bathroom.

"Danny..."

"Don't you get it Jazz?" The boy sounded near hysterical, voice heavy as though he was or was about to cry. Sam fidgeted awkwardly. Now the spying on the pair felt wrong. Private and emotional. "That's why they threw the salt! I knew it, but now... They were just _wrong_ before! Hunters, but wrong!"

"They're still wrong. None of their methods will work. You're okay. Danny? You hear me? You are-"

"I'm not fine Jazz! You know that's not the problem," Danny snapped. A lengthy silence followed. Danny gulped heavily. Puzzled at this conversation, Sam stepped closer in the hallway. The Fenton kids had been at the greasy restaurant? Their methods not working with these odd ghosts sounded like a reassurance from the elder sister. As if Danny or they had some bigger part of dealing with ghosts. Did they hunt without parental knowledge, Sam wondered. It would answer the secrecy.

"You heard them and mom. Salt is death for the traditional ghost and those suits turn out to be lined with it. The accident last year in the lab-"

"Danny! You are-"

"It's not normal Jazz! Even by supernatural standards! Before was bad enough, but at least I had some sense of normalcy after all this time! But now...a freak for the freaks!"

"No! Don't you dare think like that Danny! You do so much good, you hear me? Whatever Sam and Dean say, they don't know _you_. I know you little brother."

Sam froze. Details aside, whatever this accident was, whatever it caused, Sam could hear Dean and suddenly felt the wrongness of his own body.

* * *

Next word, permission.


	23. Permission

**Frankenstein**

**Permission**

"Well." Dean tossed the manila envelope carelessly into the backseat. "She did admit she looked familiar. If we ask around, maybe we can pinpoint where miss ghost redeath is around this town. Oh yeah. Sammy, what'd you get on suspicious one and two?"

"They sounded taken aback at the salt in the suit," Sam relayed. He frowned though. "Even if you want to buy into ghosts here being unaffected by it, they sounded far too taken aback in finding out about it. They sounded pretty emotionally attached for a pair of kids. I don't believe they're attached to the case."

"I don't buy that. They were aware of uses of salt, it being in a suit ain't gunna be a running away in a panic deal."

Sam huffed. "Still not pertinent to the case. No talk of our ghost. More...method talk. Almost as if they played a key role in taking these ghosts on." He left out feeling a slight connection to Danny's freak out on being a bigger freak. These may have just been the weirdest ghosts any hunter came across, but Danny and Jazz still were a kind of hunter. "I think we'll run into them probably. I'm positive they hunt these weird ghosts Dean. Without parental permission. Not exactly a topic to discuss near one of the said parents."

Dean snorted. "I am not taking any hunting tips from pipsqueaks. But hey, Casper High School? Hard to forget that one or not laugh at it. How many ghosts from the papers were focused on that building? Petey made a joke about it. Ghost evacuations more normal than practice fire drills."

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother's seeming interest. "You want to check out the school?"

"Ugh, hell no Sammy. You can geek out over the friendly ghostie, you actually like the good badies. Let me check Dad's journal. We know that demon deal was focused on that school. Could explain the weird ghosts maybe." He revved up the Impala.

"Maybe," Sam repeated. It seemed as logical as the next guess when it came to supernatural creatures. He'd just had enough of demons to last more than any lifetime he lived. Especially over these past few months and after Max and Ava and everything messed up inside of him. Certainly, Danny couldn't be as much or more of a freak than him. At least Sam hoped not. He actually did like Jazz, aside from the awkward crush thing with her. She'd been such a sweet and smart girl, pride over her little brother even years ago put Sam at ease near her, honestly wishing her and Danny the best in surviving their parents fanatic craziness.

* * *

Next words, weary, loss, revenge.


	24. Weary, Loss, Revenge

**Frankenstein**

**Weary**

"Mr. Kammer!"

An older bald man wearing a tie motioned at Sam from the doorway. Baffled, Sam checked behind him.

"Don't worry about parking, you're only covering today. I'm Mr. Lancer, the vice principal."

Wait. Sam stared. Wasn't this guy the English teacher six years ago?

"Welcome to Casper High School. Now, Ms. Tetslaff runs a very tight ship for her classes. You shouldn't run into much trouble with the students following her lessons. This way, this way."

Taking the misconception in stride, Sam followed the man. He was sure he could do what several substitute teachers did, let the kids work on assignments and ignore lesson plans to read a book. Or in Sam's case, get a better idea of what was going on with the school. If the real Mr. Kammer came, it should be easy enough to fake it. Wasn't like the substitute teacher wouldn't get paid anyway.

Following Mr. Lancer into the office, he spotted the Fenton's oldest there, Jazz. She peered suspiciously, noticing him over her neatly organized binder. Sam found himself backtracking from methods more suited to Dean.

"Sir, I'm not—"

"Here we are Mr. Kammer, Ms. Tetslaff's lesson plans are right here for you." The file was held up for him to take. He could feel the glare aimed at him and turned wide eyed to plead with Jazz, lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug. After a few seconds, her fierce gaze fell. Almost weary.

"Mr. Lancer."

"Yes Jasmine?"

"This isn't a substitute teacher."

Sam waited to see how'd this pan out for him. The old English teacher was taking the girl seriously, listening.

"This is Sam Winchester. Him and his brother investigate the supernatural. They expressed interest in studying our town yesterday after discussing research with our mother yesterday. He attended here for a while, but that was before the ghosts showed up."

The man's eyes brightened. "Ah! A Casper High Alumni!" He squinted at Sam. "I remember you now. You weren't here long, but your papers were exemplary in my British Literature class. You're certainly not the tall gangly thing I remember with a bu—"

"I'm surprised you remember me sir," Sam flattered the man as he cut in to avoid the rest.

"You'd be surprised what a teacher remembers. You can use the visitor's pass for the Fentons," Mr. Lancer said magnanimously. He gifted Sam with a set. "The Paranormal Investigator Visitor's Pass. Your brother, older if I recall, can use the other if needed. All we ask is to try not to disrupt the classroom activities. Ghost attacks are bad enough without _anyone_ else on top of it."

Sam chuckled at the dry voice, catching Jazz roll her eyes.

He almost missed the junior muttering under her breath as she went back to her binder.

"I hope I don't regret this."

**Loss**

Dean shifted. The hard backed wooden chair was very fitting for a library archive, but not so much for the tedious work of reading all the microfilm. First thing he did after dropping Sam off at school was check on when Amber Lynne Ryan was born. Sam had agreed pretty quickly to asking Madilynn more of her aunt and check the things around her picture behind the glass case at school. Willingly. Dean had immediately pounced on boy scout schoolboy picking locks for a pretty girl.

"Shut up Dean," Sam had protested loudly before exiting the Impala.

Which Dean shot Sam a thumbs up, spotting Madilynn Ryan and a petite bright eyed and bushy tailed girl with wild red hair greeting Sam in front of the school. The result ranked high on Sam Bitch Face Door Slams. Dean wasn't going to tell little brother his real glee was over working a case together. First, Dean Winchester was no sap. Second, Sam Winchester liked bolting. And thirdly, the older brother wasn't supposed to give ammo to the younger. That job was all his, not Sam's.

Dean shook his head from reminiscing of teasing Sam over a pretty girl. With the girl's aunt going up in a house fire, there wasn't any body to salt and burn. So Dean was left trying to figure out the pieces on her golden, very bright, birthday. Sam hadn't liked his joke on the day of her death earlier either, but it was freaking hilarious. Sad, but Dean had taught himself not to think too much on the sad parts of the job, preferring to find the humor.

It looked like the firemen had eventually deemed lit candles behind the accidental house fire accidental two weeks later. One death. No one injured. Dean wondered about the whereabouts of Mitchell and his parents during the time of the fire. It'd been the night of Amber Lynne's seventeenth birthday. Most normal families tended to celebrate those with presents, cake, and candles.

Well, Amber Lynne had candles on her birthday at least.

Dean printed, glancing it over, relief filling him that he didn't have to stay longer for any ink cartridge change. With the second look he noticed something a little strange with another article on the page. A home game loss. Due to an early fire of the victory cannon as Marcus Jackson ran for a touchdown, causing the varsity football player to stumble and get plowed. Dean groaned. Who cared about football, but he realized he'd have to look up every single weird fire event after Amber Lynne Ryan's death since they knew she was a ghost.

He trudged back to the uncomfortable chair and the microfilm reader. This was going to be a long day.

**Revenge**

"The guitar pick and sheet music belonged to her. It was one of the ones the school officials removed from her locker. Madilynn's dad kept the rest, albums and handwritten lyrics and an old glove."

"We should take a look at the handwritten lyrics and glove," Dean commented over his burger. "I can keep an eye on Mitchell and his wife when they're working the front desk. You should get a hold of the gui—"

Sam pulled out a few pieces of sheet music, filled with handwritten notes, and the guitar pick. "I copied the sheet music, it was under her framed photo so I don't think anyone will... What?"

Dean sniffed and wiped an invisible tear from his eye. "I've never been prouder."

Sam scowled. "Dude, shut up. I'm just borrowing. Madilynn's aunt didn't show up anywhere near the school."

"Shows what you know." Pleased to make his smart little brother confused, Dean pushed the folded papers across the table. "Check out the first one, two weeks after the fire when they determined the cause. That big article there? There's four more times since 1976 that victory cannon went off at key points of a football game. And I think Marcus Jackson, the first one, might be key. He was the only one who went to school the same time as our girl Amber Lynne."

Dean tapped with a greasy finger. Brows furrowed, Sam read the article.

"Marcus wasn't exactly a squeaky clean jock."

"A record?"

"With the least amount for him to pay. Looks like he had a connected family. But, here's the best charge."

Sam leaned forward. "Second-degree arson in December?"

Dean grinned, holding up three fingers from his burger. "Three months after. To the Jackson household, his own family's house, mere blocks from the school."

"I get it, you're very proud." Sam rolled his eyes. "I've got school all day. Charging their own kid for putting them out of a house in the winter? Harsh. Maybe they were done with keeping him out of jail time?"

"Hey, revenge is a dish best served cold." He shrugged and grinned at the joke. "I think I like this chick. Good taste in music and humor. Probably excellent choice in men too."

Sam ignored the preening words with ease. "It may not be anything to do with the fire we're looking into. Tulsa is a big town. Okay, so he might have had something to do with the Ryan house. Maybe Dean. But I see here that he moved out of town and hasn't been back. Anything fire related happen to him there Mr. Proud?"

Dean flicked his greasy fingers at Sam's face, laughing at his little brother letting out a yelp and curse. "Naw. But as Dad always says cover the bases for cases."

The color drained out of Sam's face. Dean winced. Whoops. Little brother finally realized he'd willingly started a case with his big brother. And Dean had brought up the sore subject of how Dad handled things.

* * *

Next word, defend.


	25. Defend

**Frankenstein**

Sam: Of course _you_ would be the one proud of not being normal.  
Dean: Normal's boring. I'm a hero. Slaying monsters.  
Danny: I'm okay with boring. Normal sounds nice.  
Jazz: Danny! You underestimate your actions! I'm so proud of you.  
Dean: Woah. Did nerd girl over here just team up on my side?

**Defend**

Tired, Sam slumped into a chair at the back of the school lunchroom. He was all too aware of the students staring at the newest paranormal visitor. Most of the students here said the ghost attacks were scary at the same time they said it was thrilling to watch the ghost called Danny Phantom fight and defeat them. It reminded Sam of the loud mouthed blond outside of The Nasty Burger. The students were far more than ready to defend their ghost hero to him. One girl had Sam wishing he didn't know as much of Spanish as he did, sputtering and looking at her nearby friends. The girl only seemed proud, tossing her hair as she left.

He straightened, trying to refocus as he saw a determined girl storming his way, plaid skirt swishing in an offbeat addition to her gothic style. She was beelining for him without the slightest pause to listen to her following friends. Sam recognized Danny, the other boy appearing vaguely familiar.

"Hey, you and your brother salted and burned this ghost you're here for right?" She waved off Danny's protests and Sam's look of shock. "Danny told me."

The boy's face went red. Sam stared, startled and envious. It was more than the normal life Sam had ever held. He'd never felt comfortable or safe to speak about his family's work to anyone not in the know. Despite his family's business and the unnatural supernatural in this town, Danny had grown up here and had the chance to make connections with people Sam never could. All Sam had was the road and a brother told to try to save him from the only unnatural supernatural they had ever faced before this town. Himself. Save him from himself or—

"It's like death for ghosts." Startled at hearing his brother's phrase fall from the girl's mouth, Sam whipped his head from Danny back to her. Her purple lips quirked up, then stated, "So therefore, this case is out of your depth."

"Huh?"

Annoyed, she slammed at the lunch table. "These are the ghosts of ghosts. None of the stories of you and your brother Dean have any supernatural creature like this. They aren't ghosts you know how to deal with."

Mulling the idea over as possible, Sam drew a narrow gaze at her. "But you do?"

The other boy hissed, tugging at her. Danny tried to get in front of the girl, apologizing with a look of his eyes. She stood tall, satisfied. "Yes, we do." And then she spun on her heel. Panicked, Danny and the other boy looked at Sam before running off after the girl.

Oh yeah. Sam was positive he and Dean would run into Danny on their case here now. A few kids running around with experience here? Dean wasn't going to like this at all.

* * *

Next word, connection.


End file.
